Tuesday, August 28, 2018

Kristen de Kline #220 Under Melbourne's CBD

1.
at dusk you lie
under Melbourne's CBD

imagine your teeth
plucked out of air, thin

your heart, quartered
and drawn, thousands

of human teeth they dredge
as the new tunnel forges in

2.
at dusk we lay
in a Wilson carpark

so many dreams blanketed
under our blue tarpaulin

at the corner of Flinders and Swanston
on the seventh floor of the bunker

it had been three days
(since) we'd eaten
-------  Roxy had OD'd
-------- the cops had come

3.
it was the molars
they found first

after the ambo took off
we passed around the Absolut
---- lit candles
---- didn't cry

then they found the dice
made out of ivory

and a sole ear-ring dropped
through the floorboards

it belonged to a "well to do lady"
(or so they said)

4.
when we wake
the teeth have multiplied

betel nut and tobacco stains
paint-bomb the remains

you find her obituary
on newsprint in a dumpster

so many dreams
so many teeth

land with a thud
go up in smoke

5.
on the fourth day
they found a miniature

haunted doll
it calls out your name:

Roxanne, Roxanne, Roxanne

6.
what do we do with death

morning hasn't broken
blackbirds haven't spoken

what do we do

















3 comments:

  1. Dear Kristen, This is a magnificent poem, it studies despair, and reaches under memory to feel around for meaning.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thanks dear Rob & James, it all started from an article in the news about finding human teeth under Melbourne's CBD a few days ago. Fascinating story!

    ReplyDelete

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